


You Just Don't See It

by BlossomsintheMist



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the plane scene in the first Iron Man movie, Tony and Rhodey get a little caught up in each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Just Don't See It

Rhodey’s breath was warm against his cheek as he leaned in to punctuate his point, and Tony’s own breath caught on something in his throat that made it hard to swallow. He was more than a little distracted from what Rhodey was saying, yeah, but it wasn’t because of the dancers, they were just a, a thing, a thing he did, that he’d pulled more because he’d thought Rhodey might get a kick out of it than anything else, or maybe it’d get a rise out of him if he was still mad, and he knew he shouldn’t be fixating on his best friend’s mouth like this—he really shouldn’t, not after the last time he’d—they’d—Rhodey had always been really nice about it, though Tony wasn’t sure how aware he was that Tony’s interest went beyond sloppy makeouts with the nearest warm body when he was drunk, that it was Rhodey he was getting drunk next to for a good reason, and one that wasn’t exactly the bonds of brotherly affection; it had a lot more to do with the quick flash of Rhodey’s smile and the way he looked at Tony, fond and open.

The way he was looking at him right now, swaying forward a little, drunkenly, trying to make some point about how good Tony was and he just needed to believe in himself and get his act together, and that was it, right there, that was the thing, Rhodey believed in Tony, which was all kinds of crazy, like, what even was that. Tony let his hand slip forward and slide along Rhodey’s shirtfront, settle at his side, a little bit clumsy from the booze, but still steady enough. Rhodey blinked, and his eyelashes fluttered a little over his eyes. “You hear what I’m sayin’?” he said blurrily.

“I don’t know,” Tony said honestly. “Run it by me again?”

“You’re not listenin’,” Rhodey said, but his smile was loose, fond, and he didn’t sound mad. He reached out and ran his thumb along Tony’s jaw, and … whoa, that was unexpected, the touch of his callused skin sending a thrill dancing along Tony’s skin. He had to steel himself not to turn his head, follow after that touch. “You need to listen more.”

“Maybe I do,” Tony said, and he leaned forward, and okay, he was being purposefully provocative now and he knew it, but something had come over him, something born of dim lights and Rhodey’s closeness and the warm male scent of him and the way he’d let Tony rest his head on his arm and the swirl of the music, even the rhythm of the girls dancing in front of them, the slight frisson of excitement under his skin. He set his lips on the rim of his glass, swirled his tongue along it, under it, as he took another sip, sucked on it. Rhodey swallowed, and Tony grinned at him. “Maybe you should get my attention,” he said.

“Whew,” Rhodey said, and shook his head, his eyes wide and dark. “I don’t know how to do that, man, you only ever listen to me when you feel like it, we both know that.”

“I feel like it now,” Tony said, and tipped the rest of his drink back, setting it aside. He cast his hand out wide in an inviting gesture. “Try me.” His voice sounded low, husky, even to him. He wondered if Rhodey was going to read it as the invitation it was. If he was even capable of doing that, if it was even remotely in the realm of possibility that Rhodey would even begin to look at him like that.

Rhodey was looking at him. “You don’t want me to,” he said. “You’re not listening to me at all.”

“Would I have said it if I didn’t?” Tony said. He reached out, wrapped his fingers in Rhodey’s tie. “C’mon, try me, honeybear.”

Rhodey’s grin was quick and fond, and he ducked his head down as if to try and hide it, catching Tony’s fingers in his own and disengaging them from his tie. But then they were sitting there with him holding Tony’s hand. He didn’t seem like he had any intention of letting go of it any time soon. “Yeah?” he said. “You’re not just going to blow me off again?”

Blow you, maybe, Tony thought quickly, impulsively, but he knew Rhodey would probably freak if he said that. Wouldn’t he? “Would I do that to my very best honeymuffin in the whole world?”

“You are so full of shit,” Rhodey said, still with that warm, easy affection in his voice. His fingers curled tighter around Tony’s, his thumb rubbed down the back of his hand to his thumb, and Tony had to swallow against a suddenly tight throat.

“I know,” he said. “I am.” And he was. Rhodey had no idea how much. And then Tony was leaning forward, his other hand dropping to Rhodey’s thigh, rubbing along firm muscle and warm skin through the fabric of his pants, and then coming up, skimming over his shirt, bracing against his shoulder and curling around the strength there, up to settle at the back of his neck. And Rhodey just looked at him with his eyes wide, his lips parted like he couldn’t get a deep breath—breathless, like he might just possibly want this. Tony fisted his fingers in the back of Rhodey’s collar and told himself to have some damn guts. Wasn’t that what the booze was for? He took a quick, hard breath, leaned in, and pressed his mouth to Rhodey’s.

Rhodey jumped a little, his free hand half flailing up, and Tony almost pulled away right then, but the alcohol was coursing through his system, making everything warm and a little bit less real, a little bit less likely to come back and bite him in the ass, so he just pressed in with his mouth, opened his lips slightly and breathed in, warm and shivery with the touch of Rhodey’s breath. Reckless, crazy, stupid, Rhodey was about to shove him away, even though he—Rhodey’s mouth softened under his, and opened on a breath as if to coax him in, his hand coming up to palm over the back of Tony’s neck as Rhodey made some small sound, low in the back of his throat. His fingers carded up into Tony’s hair, curled, tugging lightly, gently, and Tony realized, belatedly, that he wasn’t actually getting pushed away.

The rush of heat that sent through him left him dizzy, lightheaded, and he leaned even further in, hungry for more of the taste of Rhodey’s breath, the warmth of his lips, chapped and just a little rough. And Rhodey let him, stroked his hand at the back of his head and then pulled him in. Tony gasped in shock, swayed forward into the kiss, opening his mouth and just soaking this up; the touch of Rhodey’s lips, the taste of his breath, the warmth of his lips and the solid heat of his body so close. He realized they were still holding hands. Holy fuck.

Rhodey’s mouth slanted over his, slid softly along his bottom lip, and then grew hotter, more insistent, his fingers pressing against the back of Tony’s skull, thumb at the nape of his neck, not rough enough to hurt or even hold him still, but slightly more demanding. His tongue slipped into Tony’s mouth and Tony practically moaned, eagerly, which prompted a sound from Rhodey, too. He pushed Tony back against the seat, still gentle, slow, and Tony let him, skimmed his hand up the back of his neck and leaned up into the kiss even as Rhodey’s palm curved around the skin of his jaw, pressed against his neck, dragged down over the cloth of Tony’s shirt to catch warm on the line of his collarbone beneath it, gently, soft, almost as if Tony was something precious, which was kind of fucking ridiculous but still had Tony arching up into the kiss, clutching at the touch of Rhodey’s hand against his own. Even as Rhodey’s kiss heated up, drove his head back, his tongue slipping hot over Tony’s own, and Tony was just all over that, tangling their tongues together and working, sucking on Rhodey’s, his touch was still gentle, and Tony’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and he let himself arch up the way he wanted to and Rhodey didn’t push him back down. His thumb grazed over Tony’s nipple through his shirt and neither of them flinched back. Rhodey slipped one leg between both of Tony’s and oh fuck yes, how drunk was he, he should stop this, he really should, he really, really should, he didn’t want Rhodey to hate him in the morning, but he was twisting himself up into it now, twining one leg around Rhodey’s—

“Uh, Mister Stark?” The voice of one of the stewardesses. It took a moment to penetrate Tony’s brain through the incredible high of kissing Rhodey, that was his warmth and his closeness and his lips and his tongue and the way he kissed and—

“S-sure,” Tony gasped out. “Whatever you want. Just keep on doing what you’re doing. Hey, you know, you can have a bonus, and—and yeah, just.” He tried to reel Rhodey in with his arm around his shoulders, but it was too late, he was already pulling back, releasing Tony’s hand. Tony tried not to grit his teeth or do anything more embarrassing at the loss, like make a low whimpering sound in his throat, or anything like that.

“Come on, sweetie pie,” he coaxed, his voice still low and thick. Rhodey just looked at him, his eyes wide and shell-shocked.

“What’re you—what’re we doing?” he said. His hands fell to Tony’s knees, though, and flexed there, covering them. Hope jumped in Tony’s veins, at the back of his throat.

“Making out,” he said in a voice that jumped and trembled, hoarse and throaty. “You wanna get back to it?”

Rhodey’s eyes were focused on his lips, and he licked his own, swallowing. That was a very good sign. “Why—” his eyes flicked up, focused on Tony. “Do you really—”

“I really!” Tony said. “I really, really, Rhodey, honeybear, cupcake, studmuffin, I really do want you to kiss me. C’mon, kiss me again.”

Rhodey’s eyebrows climbed dramatically, but then he smiled, leaned forward and tilted his head, his eyes sliding closed, and he was settling their lips together again, bringing his hand up to cup Tony’s jaw. He was kissing Tony like a lover, or even more like a … a boyfriend, slow and careful and gently thorough, playing over his lips first, teasing and soft, before slipping his tongue back into his mouth, and Tony just opened his mouth for it, leaned in, for long moments before he got his own tongue into the action and started to kiss with a wet, quick heat. His hand came up to tangle with Rhodey’s tie. Rhodey’s fingers curled through Tony’s hair, tousling it horribly, probably. They only broke apart occasionally for breath, heavy and panting. Tony pulled Rhodey’s tie loose, tangled his fingers in it, then let it slip down to the seat beside them, crooking his thumb under his collar and starting to trail his mouth down Rhodey’s jaw, over his neck, to where he was pulling his shirt open enough that he could press his mouth to his collarbone. Rhodey jerked, made a surprised noise, and his hand tightened, tugged in Tony’s hair. Tony grinned to himself and opened his mouth, mouthing there wetly, hotly, swiping his tongue over warm, slightly sweaty skin. “Tony …” Rhodey’s voice was hoarse now, breathy and surprised. “I—what’re you—that’s—”

“Mmm,” Tony said against his skin, rolled his tongue up the inside of Rhodey’s collarbone. “You have great bone structure, sweetface.”

Rhodey’s fingers twitched in his hair, tangled, pulled against the back of his neck. “Tony,” he said, and he sounded nervous now, almost alarmed, “we can’t—”

“We sure can,” Tony said. “No one’s gonna ask, and no one’s gonna tell, we’re on my private jet, it’s gonna be fine, honey.” He reached up with his other hand and grazed it over Rhodey’s slacks, up along the inseam, to trail his thumb over the hard warmth of his erection, then cover it with his hand, grinding just a little with the heel of his palm. Rhodey jerked, gasping, and his head fell back. Tony grinned and pressed his lips to the pulse in Rhodey’s throat. “I can just get you off real fast if you want,” he offered.

Rhodey’s hand tightened at the back of his neck. “No,” he said. “No, that’s not what I want.”

Tony felt his own teeth digging into his bottom lip. “Yeah?” he breathed. He was so sure Rhodey was going to push him off and say they were done that when Rhodey just sat up and framed his face with both hands, tilting his head until their foreheads were resting together, breath hot and damp mingling between their lips, he almost fell over in shock. Rhodey caught him, steadied him, and the way he was looking at Tony was so warm, so … softly, fondly affectionate … maybe Tony was drunker than he’d thought, because that look in Rhodey’s eyes was … .

“Yeah, no,” Rhodey said. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re not going to do each other sloppy favors. Okay, Tony?”

“Okay,” Tony said. He leaned in, pressed their lips together, rubbing his lips at Rhodey’s bottom one breathlessly, just pressing close slick and warm, before he dipped his mouth to actually suck on it, open his mouth wider and kiss Rhodey properly. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Rhodey’s lips, lingered over it as long as he felt he could, brushed their mouths together, slow and wet and dragging, before he opened his mouth again. “Okay.”

“You just promise me you’ll never call me cupcake again,” Rhodey said, and yanked Tony into another kiss.


End file.
